Firestorm
by Megazord Master
Summary: Just a small back story of my OC


Firestorm

He does not know where he is going; only that his destructive magic will take him there.

Blinded by the tears that spill from his inky black eyes, he pushes through wild undergrowth and hisses in pain as a thorny bush opens up a long scratch on his right flank. The screams and jeers from his past haunt him as he feels a surge of magic well into his horn. His horn, which is now a permanent part of him – much like the unnatural magic that swirls inside him. He knows he wasn't always like this but he dares not look into his memories, lest he live up to his name.

Firestorm: a tragically ironic name for one born an Earth Pony.

He was never good at anything except getting into trouble and picking fights with the wrong ponies…for the right reasons; less than stellar skills for anypony to have. His teachers, what few stayed on after the first lesson, would praise him for his intellect and bemoan the fact he wasn't born a Unicorn or even a Pegasus. Dashing into a cave just as the first crack of lightning sounds, he shakes his head as if to shake off the result of that…monstrous occurrence. He should never have visited Ponyville on the day of Discord's awakening. He should never have followed the God of Chaos around as sneakily as he could and he should never, ever have even dared to read the whispering book the trickster had dropped.

The first few times were easy. Simple mind tricks that required hardly any thought at all. Only when the Captain and Co-Captain of the cheerleading squad were found with him in unmentionable circumstances were his actions scrutinized. Of course, they found nothing at all and the two mares weren't too traumatized and so, like the weak-minded puppets they were, dropped any investigation. He should have stopped then and there but the power had seeped into his mind and body. Realistically, it had been over for him the moment he picked up the tome.

The rain began to fall heavier outside, large drops pounding the earth outside and sounding like the herd of scared ponies that had run him out of town after the change. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't blame them – he had changed too quickly, too drastically for anything to be blamed but his stupidity. His dull orange coat had brightened up to the colour of ripe oranges and never seemed to heal over his injuries the way it had before. Scars, picked up over the many years spent an outcast, peppered his body, constantly reminding him of battles for food and water. Finally, there was the thing in the centre of his forehead, the object whose emergence into the world was partnered with pain, screaming and so much blood.

Blood splashed onto the walls from his head, from his body and from the still forms of his parents as they attempted to wrest their son from the dark forces that were transforming him. Blood flying from his body as the first knives and shards of glass wielded by his former friends made contact with his flesh. Blood pooling into his eyes as an unfortunate spill into several panes of glass had all but ripped his eyelids off. And, finally, blood from the bodies of the ponies around him as they burst into pillars of screaming wetness. He had tried to end everything then and there but couldn't – if only to see if he could harness his unwanted power for good.

Ultimately, he had succeeded in that front but could never return home.

Four long years he had spent trying to control his anger with breathing exercises and self-therapy. He had learned to calm his mind and had almost achieved true inner peace. He had even defended his small corner of the world from the overwhelming power of Lord Tirek, a feat that had stunned the demigod into silence for a brief moment and had the extremely odd occurrence of the power-mad creature backing away from him. He still wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Long had he held on to the belief that the Trickster would be able to reverse his condition, as his magic had created it, and had learnt from the few friends he still had that he had been reformed and had been seen in and around Ponyville.

Slipping in, under the cover of darkness, he had sought out the Embodiment of Chaos and had beseeched him to remove his curses on his body. True, he wouldn't be able to return home but he could at least make a name for himself if his scars could heal. He had been expecting anything from the Trickster: a peal of hysterical laughter or even a cold and calculating chuckle…but the words that came next shocked him to the core.

"I…I can't do anything for you."

Discord had then sat down next to him and had explained why he couldn't, that the tome wasn't really his at all and that he had been holding on to it as a favour for a minor acquaintance. The power granted to him was permanent and could not be removed without killing him. Even that would pose a problem as the stored energy would be released all at once, causing mass destruction and devastation to the surrounding areas. There was a shadowed upside as the infusion of energy had, for all intents and purposes, given him an extended lifespan. He wouldn't be immortal like the Princesses but would continue to live well after Equestria had ceased to exist. He would have the Princesses for company and companionship but…Discord had trailed off his words with the unsaid implication weighing heavily in the air.

Firestorm shivered as the wind picked up outside and shook his head again. The thought was tempting to him but was just that, a thought. There is nothing left for him but to sit on the edges of society.

Forever.


End file.
